Secret Admirers
by threerainydays
Summary: "Ricken darling, you do realize how juvenile this is, right?" "Don't look down on me," he mumbled half-heartedly. A story of love letters and secret admirers. Maribelle/Ricken. Oneshot.


_Maribelle is honestly the only person I can comfortably ship Ricken with. In their supports I feel like she respects him as being capable in his own right, and I think he acts less childish than in some of his other supports. Annnnnd Brady looks great with red hair._

* * *

 **Secret Admirers**

Ricken twirled the pen between his fingers, a frown of concentration on his face. The intimidatingly blank paper stared up at him, and he let out a long sigh of frustration. He'd sat down to write nearly ten minutes ago and still hadn't managed to actually write anything yet. It was easy writing letters to his parents, but this… this was worlds different. After all, this wasn't just any letter he was writing. No, it had to be…

A love letter.

He blushed at the thought and wondered how he was going to manage to get through an entire letter if he couldn't even think about writing it without turning red. There was so much he wanted to say, but when he tried to form the words they all sounded corny. He was young but that didn't mean he couldn't be sincere. And when it came to his feelings for her, he definitely had to show her he wasn't a child.

Feeling somewhat more motivated, he started to write. He'd barely written the word "dear" when he heard the sound of footsteps approaching.

"What are you writing, Ricken?"

He practically tossed his pen aside and scrambled to cover up the paper he'd been so focused on. "Ah! Maribelle! Um, hello!" He leaned back against the desk, trying to act cool and collected. In a desperate attempt to sound casual, he said, "How are you?"

She frowned at his reaction. She tapped her parasol against the palm of her hand as if it were a ruler. Ricken certainly felt like a bad student who'd been caught cheating on a test, and her frown of disapproval only heightened his feelings of guilt. "Come now, dear, I'm not an idiot. Your nose was pressed so close to the desk I thought you'd go cross-eyed. What are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything!" He said in a slightly higher voice than usual. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Just, you know, writing a letter to my parents. Like I usually do. Nothing strange here!"

"Mhm," Maribelle said, clearly unconvinced. "I only came to inform you that the evening meal has been prepared. I won't ask any more questions, but I should hope you're not doing anything foolish."

"Of course not!" He said indignantly. She raised an eyebrow, and he gulped in defeat. "Okay, so I'm not writing to my parents. But it's still a secret, and I'd rather you didn't see it."

"Very well," she said, although there was still a bit of disdain in her tone. "I trust that you're able to make rational decisions on your own."

"I'm not a child," he mumbled, averting his gaze so that she couldn't see his blush.

She smiled a little as she turned to leave. "I know, darling."

As soon as she left, Ricken let out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He checked to make sure the papers weren't too crumpled, straightening a few corners that had gotten bent in his haste to cover them. Packing up his things, he decided that was enough writing for one day. He followed the others heading to dinner, thinking about how close Maribelle had been to seeing the letter.

Any closer, and she would have seen the only two words Ricken had written: "Dear Maribelle."

* * *

The next day, Ricken was again hunched over a piece of paper, trying to write his love letter. After yesterday's close call, he'd relocated to a spot by the river near the edge of camp where (hopefully) no one would pass by.

He tapped the pen against his knee, wondering what the best way to go about this sort of thing was. He'd made a good start yesterday with writing the heading, but now came the tricky words. The more he thought about it, the harder it seemed to try and think of a good way to communicate his feelings in writing.

Why did he love Maribelle anyway? He couldn't identify what exactly it was that he loved about her, because he just… loved her. Because, that's why. And anyway, when you loved someone weren't you supposed to love them for their entire being, just for being themselves? If that was true, then maybe it was pointless to try and pick out individual things that he loved about her.

Realizing he was on to something, he hastily started to scribble down some of those ideas, deciding it was safest to go for the holistic approach. He was so focused on writing he didn't notice someone peering over his shoulder.

"A love letter, huh? I guess even you're old enough for that now."

He nearly took a spill into the river as he physically jumped up and away from whoever-it-was. "Agh! You nearly gave me a heart attack, Lissa!"

She smiled a little, hand on her hip in a triumphant sort of way. "Don't even try to deny it, Ricken. I saw everything."

He looked at her warily. "You're not going to tell her, are you?"

Lissa held her hands up calmly. "I wasn't planning on telling anyone anything. That's your business. Besides, it's so romantic to think that you've got a crush on Maribelle!"

He blushed and tried to distract himself by picking up the scattered papers. "As long as you won't tell," he mumbled.

"Sure thing, kid," she said, at which Ricken frowned. "Just so long as you invite me to the wedding."

He nearly dropped the papers again. "W-wedding? Aren't you getting a little ahead of yourself?"

She giggled. "You're blushing. How cute!"

"Stop treating me like a child," he said, trying to keep a straight face. "I'm barely halfway done writing this, so if you'd excuse me…"

"Alright, Ricken," she said. "And hey, for what it's worth, I hope she says yes."

He turned away a little to hide his blush. "I hope so, too," he whispered.

"Also, you might want to find a better secret spot," she called over her shoulder.

He sighed, following her back to camp. Ricken supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised. With friends like the Shepherds, privacy was all but nonexistent.

* * *

And the interruptions didn't stop there. No, it took another four unexpected walk-ins and another almost-fall into the river (courtesy of Henry trying to scare him) before Ricken finished his letter. By that point, he'd given up trying to write his letter in secret since pretty much everyone knew what he was up to. He was sitting out in the open in the middle of camp adding the finishing touches when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

"Ricken?"

He hastily signed his name and folded up the paper, praying that the ink wouldn't smudge. "Oh, hey Maribelle," he said. "Nice morning, isn't it?"

"It is," she said slowly. "If you don't mind, I'll get straight to the point. There's something I'd like to discuss with you."

"O-okay," he said, feeling nervous. "What's up?"

"It's come to my attention that you've been writing a letter to a girl you're interested in. Is this true?"

"Um, uh, well, yes?" He said, deciding that even if he lied Maribelle would get the truth out of him eventually. "Who told you?"

"Really now, there isn't a single person in this company who doesn't know by now," she replied, twirling her umbrella in her free hand. "And I must say, I'm quite disappointed to hear that it's true."

His hold on the letter tightened. "I… see," he managed.

She huffed out a sigh. "Ricken darling, you do realize how juvenile this is, right? Although I suppose you are rather young…"

"Don't look down on me," he said, but it was mumbled half-heartedly. He continued to clutch the letter to his chest, a fierce blush spread across his cheeks.

"Honestly, if this girl you like is anything at all like me, I'm sure she'd much prefer you to confess your feelings in person. Wouldn't you agree?"

He looked at her seriously. "Do you really think so?"

"I know so, dear," she said with a superior nod. "It's much nobler to be up front about your feelings than to resort to games like this."

"I thought you meant… well, I suppose it doesn't matter now. Here goes nothing," he said. He extended his arms, hands shaking as he held out the letter to her. "The truth is, this is for you, Maribelle.

She stared at him in surprise. "What? For… me?"

"Yes," he said, refusing to back down now. "I like you… a lot, Maribelle. And I want you to have this."

For once, Maribelle seemed to be at a loss for words. She hesitantly took the paper from him, but didn't open it. "Aren't you going to read it?" Ricken pressed. "I worked really hard on it."

She nodded and opened it carefully, eyes scanning the page swiftly. By the end she was smiling, and as she folded it back up, she said, "I had no idea you thought so highly of me, Ricken."

His blush increased and he pulled down his hat a little to try and hide it. "Um, yeah. I mean, yes. I do."

"Oh, stop being so silly," she suddenly said, snatching the hat off his head. "I'd expect the man I approve of to be a little bolder in his request to court me. After all, aren't you interested in my answer?"

His eyes widened. "You mean…?"

She smiled. "Yes, Ricken, I'd be honored to accept."

He jumped up and down, shouting in excitement, at which Maribelle chuckled a little. "This is great!" He said, smiling widely. Then he stopped, realizing he wasn't sure what happened next. "So uh, what now?"

"I was planning on inviting you to tea, but first…"

She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, at which Ricken's blush increased exponentially. "Ah, um, wow," he said.

Maribelle pulled back, her own cheeks looking a little pinker than usual. "Well, the tea won't boil itself, now will it?"

He managed a grin and hesitantly reached out to hold her hand in his. "Then prepare the kettle, my love."

* * *

 _And thus Ricken got a girlfriend and most everyone had to admit that he wasn't as young as they thought. And Chrom decided it was his responsibility to give Ricken the talk but Robin tactfully stepped in to prevent that disaster from happening, the end._

 _I have an ongoing poll on my profile page: Which critical hit lines from Fire Emblem Awakening are your favorites? Thirty choices, five votes, you decide._


End file.
